Journey to Western Queensland—Camping out—_Damper_ (Australian
bread)—The song of the magpie—Australian scrubs—Hunting
the kangaroo—Devotion of parrots—Station life—Lonely
shepherds—Migration of rats—Native justice—Australian fleas—Native
mounted police—A remarkable flint instrument—The boomerang.
[Illustration:
A WOOL-WAGGON.
]
In the beginning of July I prepared myself for a long journey to the
west. I first despatched several cases of things collected to
Christiania, and then proceeded on my journey in company with a man who
was to bring provisions to Minnie Downs, Messrs. Archer’s sheep station,
about 350 miles west from Rockhampton.
I had long contemplated this journey, as Western Queensland was in my
imagination a veritable Eldorado for the naturalist. So far as I knew,
no zoologist had yet studied the fauna of the far west. With my limited
acquaintance with Australian bush-life I was happy to get a companion;
he had a waggon drawn by three horses, so that our day’s journey was
comparatively short, which was a great advantage to me. I thus had the
opportunity of making many digressions on the way, and of procuring many
animals, while my companion preceded me. The greater part of the day I
was occupied on my own account in hunting and in preparing my game. In
the course of the afternoon I overtook the waggon, the track of which I
was always able to follow.
At sunset we encamped for the night, and the horses were let loose with
their forefeet hobbled. We made a large fire and prepared our supper,
which, as is common in the bush, consisted of salt beef and _damper_.
The latter is the name of a kind of bread made of wheat flour and water.
The dough is shaped into a flat, round cake, which is baked in red-hot
ashes. This bread looks very inviting, and tastes very good, as long as
it is fresh, but it soon becomes hard and dry.
[Illustration:
HEAD OF “MORE PORK” (_Podargus cuvierii_).
]
After supper we immediately made up our beds, which consisted simply of
a waterproof laid on the ground and some woollen blankets. For the sake
of convenience we usually slept under the waggon with the fire before
us. Generally there is no other roof for the Australian traveller than
the sky, and this is, as a rule, quite sufficient in Western Queensland,
where no dew falls except immediately after the rainy season. On the
coast it is, however, necessary to be more prudent; if you do not sleep
in a tent, you should at least take care to have something over your
head, so as not to inhale the dew. A couple of boughs will often
answer—a precaution never taken by the careless bushmen.
How well one feels in this out-of-door life! When we lie down to rest we
are lulled to sleep by the melancholy, sleep-inspiring, and not
disagreeable voices of the night bird _Podargus_—“more pork! more
pork!”—and we are awakened in the bracing morning air, before the sun is
up, by the wondrous melodious organ-tones of the Australian magpie
(_Gymnorhina tibicen_).
At Expedition Range we came to dense scrubs, the so-called
Brigalow-scrubs. The motley blending of plants which characterises the
scrubs of the sea-board is not found here. The Brigalow (_Acacia
harpophylla_) frequently occupies the whole ground for miles around; the
air is heavy and oppressive; occasionally the gray monotony is broken by
an isolated bottle-tree (p. 55) (_Sterculia rupestris_), which derives
its name from the wonderful resemblance of the stem to a bottle. The
inner part of this tree is porous and spongy, and therefore absorbs a
great deal of moisture, a fact of which the cattle-owner sometimes
avails himself during a prolonged drought. In a few places this damp
wood, which contains a great deal of starch, is used for fodder.
After journeying two or three days through this gray wilderness, we
crossed Comet river. Along its banks my attention was drawn to a number
of _Casuarinas_—those leafless, dark trees which always make a sad
impression on the traveller; even a casual observer will notice the
dull, depressing sigh which comes from a grove of these trees when there
is the least breeze. Near Springsure I stopped a day at a station, where
I was invited to take part in a kangaroo hunt. There were several of us
in the company, all on horseback. Toward sunset we set out, for the
animals at that time go out to feed, and it was not long before we
caught sight of one of them. Our dogs, which were all fine kangaroo
hounds, were now let loose, and we galloped after them as fast as our
horses could carry us.
The kangaroo jumps as quickly as a galloping horse, but usually it gets
tired soon, especially if it is an “old man,” as the colonists say. He
then places himself with his back against the trunk of a tree and seeks
to protect himself from the dogs to the last. Woe be to the dog who
comes within reach of his paws! He seizes it with his arms, and rips its
belly open with his strong big toe. The dog therefore takes good care
not to come too near. Sometimes the kangaroo takes refuge in a pool of
water, and if the dog is too intrusive, the kangaroo ducks it
instinctively under water, and holds it there till it is dead. The hunt
proceeded as rapidly as our fast horses could gallop, but it did not
take long before the kangaroo turned on the dogs in the manner I have
described. One of the hunters came up, dismounted, and one or two
powerful blows from his club put an end to the animal. We killed six of
them in this manner.
Not far from Nogoa river I overtook my travelling companion. In this
region I shot two specimens of the beautiful parrot _Platycercus
pulcherrimus_ under the following remarkable circumstances. An hour
before sunset I left the camp with my gun, and soon caught sight of a
pair of these parrots, a male and a female, that were walking near an
ant-hill eating grass-seed. After I had shot the male, the female flew
up into a neighbouring tree. I did not at once go to pick up the dead
bird—the fine scarlet feathers of the lower part of its belly, which
shone in the rays of the setting sun, could easily be seen in the
distance. Soon after the female came flying down to her dead mate. With
her beak she repeatedly lifted the dead head up from the ground, walked
to and fro over the body, as if she would bring it to life again; then
she flew away, but immediately returned with some dry straws of grass in
her beak, and laid them before the dead bird, evidently for the purpose
of getting him to eat the seed. As this too was in vain, she began again
to raise her mate’s head and to trample on his body, and finally flew
away to a tree just as darkness was coming on. I approached the tree,
and a shot put an end to the faithful animal’s sorrow.
[Illustration:
A KANGAROO HUNT.
]
About 250 miles from the coast we passed the part of the Great Dividing
Range, which here forms the watershed between Eastern and Western
Queensland. In this part the watershed consists of a low range.
Nevertheless no one can fail to observe the great difference in animal
life on the two sides as well as the immediate change in the character
and aspect of the country. No sooner is the range passed than we meet
with the red-breasted cockatoo (_Cacatua roseicapilla_), which is never
found on the eastern side.
From this time we were in Western Queensland, as it is called, the great
rich pasturage, where millions of sheep wander about, and we were soon
aware that we had come within the confines of the squatters. One can
scarcely imagine a more characteristic picture of Australian bush-life
than the sight of a wool-waggon approaching from the distance. Eighteen
or twenty strong oxen in the scorching heat, their tongues far out of
their mouths, laboriously drag a heavy waggon loaded with bales of wool.
By the side of the caravan walks the driver, sunburnt and dusty, with
his long whip in his hand. Under an awning on the top of the load, which
is as high as a house, the driver’s family have their quarters, and a
few sheep and goats follow behind.
Such a carrier makes his living by transporting wool from stations in
the far west to the coast, and also by bringing back supplies. Thus he
spends his life on the road from one year’s end to another. He is
himself the owner of both oxen and waggon. If he has several of such
teams and also a wife, she usually drives one, plying her whip as
dexterously as any man.
Finally we meet the great flocks of sheep from Minnie Downs, proof that
we are now near this station, our goal. The month I spent here gave me
an excellent knowledge of station life. The raising of cattle and sheep,
the most important industry of Australia, has more or less influence on
all kinds of business in that country. In the older colonies the cattle
and sheep farmers are also the owners of the land where their herds and
flocks graze, but in the larger part of Queensland the pastures are
rented from the Government. These great cattle and sheep farmers are
called squatters, and they are the aristocracy of Australia. If the
squatter is a sheep-farmer, he not unfrequently has 200,000 sheep upon
his station, while the cattle-farmer often owns 15,000 head. He does not
hesitate to pay as high as £2000 for a fine bull, or as high as £600 for
a ram of choice pedigree.
A station resembles a little village. Besides the main building, which
is the residence of the squatter or his superintendent, there are a
number of shanties for the workmen, a butcher’s shop, a storehouse for
wool, and a shop where most of the necessaries of life may be bought. A
garden of vegetables may usually be found down by the water, for there
is always a creek or a water-hole near every station. The garden is
generally managed by skilful Chinamen, who are, it is true, hated by all
colonists (every Chinaman must pay £30 for permission to settle in
Queensland), but at the same time are recognised as the most able
gardeners. The secret of their art is chiefly the untiring attention
they give to the plants, watering them early and late in sunshine and
even in rain.
The stock-yard is an enclosure indispensable to every station. The
cattle are driven into it when they are to be captured, but it is
usually occupied by the horses, which are lodged there every morning so
that the stock-man may select his own animal. Most of the work on a
station is done on horseback, and one can hardly conceive of an
Australian unable to ride.
There is of course much work to be done on a station having such
extensive pasturage. The sheep cause the most trouble. The
transportation of the wool to the coast is very expensive, and often
costs more than the freight from the coast to England. And yet
sheep-raising may often give a profit of as much as thirty per cent. The
cattle are sent alive to the cities to be slaughtered. Milk is scarcely
used at all in the bush. On a station containing about 10,000 head not
more than three or four cows may be milked, as the cattle are half wild
and have to be tamed for milking purposes. The chief stress is laid on
the beef. What, then, becomes of this immense quantity of beef? The
greater part is eaten in Australia, where the consumption is enormous.
More recently establishments have been built, in which the beef is
either canned or frozen for export. Besides, considerable quantities are
used for the production of tallow. In the neighbourhood of Rockhampton
there is an establishment where the carcasses of about 100,000 cattle
and sheep are annually boiled down and converted into tallow.
In Australia, wherever there are good pastures to be found, the land is
quickly taken up for the feeding of large droves of cattle and flocks of
sheep. First, the cattle consume the coarse grass, then the sheep are
turned into the pastures. Distance is a matter of no consequence. It may
require months to bring the stock up to the new station, but no place is
so far away that there is any hesitation about forming a station there,
provided the pasturage is good. The greatest difficulty with which the
squatter has to contend is the climate, for prolonged drought may
completely ruin him.
I was now in one of the best grazing districts of Australia, covered for
hundreds of miles with the well-known Mitchell-grass (_Astrebla
elymoides_), which has a remarkable power of withstanding the drought
without losing its nourishing qualities.
In the vicinity of Minnie Downs there still were scrubs, but farther
west they became less abundant. These were mainly Brigalow-scrubs, and
near the station they occupy large tracts of land. Here we also become
acquainted with a new kind of scrub, called by the colonists gidyascrub,
which manifests itself even at a distance by a very characteristic but
not agreeable odour, being especially pungent after rain. The Australian
inland scrubs give a vivid impression of solitude and desolation, with
their gray or brown masses of stiff, often shadeless trees, which like a
sea undulate over barren plains and low hills. To ramble in these woods,
where all is dry and hot, and silent as the grave, is no pleasure as it
would be elsewhere. It is very difficult to discover life in this woody
wilderness, and the monotony is rarely broken by the sight of a bird or
any other living thing. These scrubs, which sometimes are of immense
extent (for instance in South Australia 9000 square miles), are peculiar
to Australia, and, as Mr. Wood well says, are just as characteristic of
the country as the steppes of Tartary, the prairies of America, and the
deserts of Africa are of these respective countries.
In the great gidya and Brigalow-scrubs in the vicinity of the station I
could not therefore expect to find any great variety of animal life. Nor
does it exist to any extent in the open country generally. The
Australian dog (_dingo_) was formerly very numerous here and in all
Western Queensland. But as it is the sworn enemy of the squatters they
have begun to kill it, so that it is now in course of extermination. On
the large stations a man is kept whose sole work it is to lay out poison
for the dingo. The black variety with white breast generally appears in
Western Queensland along with the red.
[Illustration:
SPIDER PARALYSED BY A HORNET (natural size).
]
I frequently had occasion to observe the spiders, and among them the
large woolly _Phrictis crassipes_ was found in great numbers. It makes a
hole 18 inches deep, and in a slanting position, but the entrance is not
supplied with a trap-door, as is the case with the burrows of many other
spiders out here. I once saw a hornet (_Mygnimia australasiæ_) proceed
boldly into one of these holes, which I then immediately closed. I dug
to the bottom of the hole from the side. There I saw the spider
paralysed by the plucky hornet, which was sitting on its back. I was
anxious to test the effect of the poison of this colossal spider, and
once let it bite the snout of a kitten, which thereupon became very sick
and vomited violently, but soon recovered.
Another spider (_Lathrodectus scelio_), which is very common here and
everywhere in Queensland, is very dangerous even to men. It is a small
black animal, of the size of our house-spider, with a brilliant scarlet
mark on its back. A friend of mine was bitten in the leg by one of these
dangerous spiders, which is feared like a snake. The pain was violent,
and was followed by paralysis which lasted for three days. He was able
to feel the venom work its way up the leg, pass through the bowels, and
descend down the other leg, whereupon it ascended to the breast. But on
the third day he had a cold perspiration, and recovered.
This spider is found especially in old wood and rubbish, but is also
fond of staying in houses, keeping itself concealed during the day and
coming out at night. On my verandah at Gracemere I could collect as many
as I pleased, for they are not at all timid.
I soon began to long for regions farther west, where the fauna is more
abundant, and continued my journey alone with only two horses. As a rule
there was a path which I could follow. When no path was to be found, I
proceeded as best I could, and made my camp wherever night overtook me.
Every day I expected new scenes, but I was always disappointed. It was
the same over and over again; large, gray plains covered with dry
Mitchell-grass undulated before me; here and there stood a solitary
gum-tree, especially on the banks of the rivers. Dwarf scrubs were the
only things that occasionally varied the landscape.
When I arrived at Barcoo river, I discovered to my surprise only a dry
river-bed with pools of water here and there, instead of a veritable
stream. Yet this is naturally explained by the fact that the river owes
its existence exclusively to the rains, which is the case with the
majority of the Australian streams.
It seldom rains in Western Queensland; but during the rainy season the
rivers rapidly fill their beds, overflow their banks, and in some places
become several miles wide. The water, however, soon disappears again,
and the high temperature reduces the mighty stream to isolated
water-holes. Water is therefore a precious article in the Australian
bush. To furnish drink for the cattle the squatter must build large
dams, especially across the rivers, and thus gather a supply which may
protect him against irreparable losses. In recent years water has been
obtained by boring very deep wells. I may here mention the fact that, at
the end of 1887, water was found in Barcaldine at a depth of 691 feet by
an artesian boring. It was clear as crystal and perfectly fresh, but
very warm, the temperature being 101°F. Through a pipe 10 inches in
diameter it rose with such force that it formed a fountain above the
ground, and carried to the surface stones of the size of emu eggs. The
amount of water from this artesian well is about 176,000 gallons per
day.[1]
Footnote 1:
The artesian well at Blackall last year struck water at the depth of
1666 feet and gives 300,000 gallons per day, at a temperature of 119°.
In other places several borings have been successful at a slight
depth.
The soil consists, as a rule, of a fertile, deep, and chocolate-coloured
deposit. Water is all that is wanted to make a great deal of Western
Queensland a large wheat-growing country, and I feel sure, owing to the
great success artesian borings of late have had, that such a future is
really in store for this country. In the present circumstances it is
difficult to keep garden flowers alive.
In Western Queensland nobody is surprised if a drop of rain does not
fall for eight or ten months together. Nevertheless, cattle and sheep
keep fat all the year, for the grass retains its nutriment even though
it looks dry and gray, and a shower will make these dry stalks green.
On the way to Thompson river I spent a night with an Irish shepherd, who
lived far away from any neighbour, occupied wholly with his sheep. As a
peculiar and pedantic hermit, he preferred this solitary life, to which
he had accustomed himself for many years. He could not bear any
interruption in his habits, and with Australian straightforwardness he
did not hesitate to make it apparent that all things in his neat little
cottage must be kept in their places. But if one adapted oneself to his
habits, it was not difficult to get on with him. He was, in fact, a type
of those old Australian shepherds who are rapidly being relegated to the
domain of history. Though his hair had turned gray in the bush, he had
not forgotten his Irish descent. “England is too powerful,” said he;
“her fate will be like that of Rome in ancient times.”
After supper he spread some sacks on the floor, and these were to be my
bed. But I was not yet ready to retire, so I went out in the starry
night, where the moon and the Southern Cross shone cold on the lonely
landscape. The pure, clear winter air was chill on the gray plains and
dark green trees, while in the cottage the fire blazed high on the
hearth and shed a ray of light out through the small windows.
I opened the door and was deeply touched to find the hermit kneeling
before his bed. Here the old man lived alone with his God in the
desolate Australian bush.
On the banks of the Thompson river I observed the well-known nardu
(_Marsilea_). The seed of this plant is crushed and ground by the
natives, and used for food. Nardu has become painfully celebrated, for
it was on this seed that the famous travellers Burke and Wills subsisted
until they finally perished from starvation.
At Westlands station I had the good fortune to witness a _korroboree_,
that is, a festive dance by the natives in the neighbourhood. The melody
sung to this dance was genuine Australian, but the text was mixed with
English words. The air was as follows:—
[Music:
_Tempo di Valse._
_Allegro._
La - la - la - la - la La - la - la - la - la
La - la - la - la - la La - la - la - la - la
La - la - la - la - la La - la - la - la - la
La - la - la - la - la La - la - la - la - la
La - la - la - la - la all to - ge - ther
yarn a - way all to - ge - ther yarn a -
way all to - ge - ther yarn a - way. Bahl
bood’gry Bo - ran - do Bahl bood’gry Bo - ran - do.
The water we are obliged to drink in the interior of Queensland is
wellnigh intolerable. Frequently it is so thick with mud that it has to
be boiled, after which the dirt is allowed to sink to the bottom. Very
often it is white, mixed with chalk, or it may be coloured black from
decayed leaves. When the bushman wants a drink of water he does not
hesitate to drink it as it is, and I have even seen these careless
people drink from a dam in which there lay a couple of putrid sheep.
That people do not oftener fall ill is doubtless due to the circumstance
that the water is almost universally drunk boiled with tea. Though the
water is not always as unhealthy as its appearance would indicate, I
seldom omitted to boil it; but as I often found it inconvenient to
dismount and make a fire, I accustomed myself to do without it all day
long. I made up for the want, however, in the evening, when I was lucky
enough to encamp near good water. At one station I emptied two large
pitchers in the course of an hour.
Though one perspires freely in this climate, still the moisture
evaporates so rapidly that one keeps perfectly dry while riding beneath
the perpendicular rays of the sun.
About a month after my departure from Minnie Downs I reached Windex
station, 650 miles from Rockhampton, where I found the same hospitable
reception always accorded a stranger in the Australian bush. I was
invited to remain for a while to explore the vicinity. The owner was
himself interested in zoology, and he believed it would pay me to stop;
he was right, for the animal life was interesting even if it were not
rich in species. I here added to my collection Australia’s smallest
marsupial animal, the beautiful _Phascologale minutissima_. A cat
playing with something that looked like a mouse led to the capture of
this specimen, for on closer examination it appeared that it was not an
animal of the mouse family, but this little marsupial. It had no less
than nine young in the pouch. From Windex I made an excursion for a few
days to a mountain region about thirty miles distant. Here I shot the
beautiful white species of kite (_Elanus axillaris_), and a couple of
specimens of the charming Diamantina-pigeon. These beautiful little
birds are very numerous here, and so tame that the stock-men can easily
kill them with their whips.
On the broad sandy heights in the vicinity the so-called spinifex is
found in great abundance. This grass (_Triodia irritans_) is the
traveller’s torment, and makes the plains, which it sometimes covers for
hundreds of miles, almost impassable. Its blades, which have points as
sharp as needles, often prick the horses’ legs till they bleed, and it
is generally regarded simply as a nocuous grass; still, the horses will
eat the tender blades of the young plant.
The district in which I now found myself had a year before been visited
by a plague of rats. They came from the north-west and proceeded, _viâ_
Winton, on their wanderings towards the east. A man in Ayrshire Downs
told me that they appeared in countless numbers—during the day they kept
concealed, but in the evening the ground seemed to be alive with them,
so numerous were they. One night for amusement he laid a piece of meat
on his threshold, and killed with a stick 400 of these animals which
came up to eat the meat. An occasional straggler was left behind, but
the main body disappeared in a short time. Afterwards I learned that an
army of rats had also passed Westwood, doubtless the same clan, but
greatly reduced in number, and probably but few of them reached the
coast. I have been informed that the small marsupials (_Phascologale
minutissima_) before mentioned make similar periodical migrations.
From Ayrshire Downs I proceeded south to Elderslie, a station in process
of construction. It was so difficult to get building timber in the
vicinity that it had been found expedient to use stone for building. The
station lies near the confluence of the Diamantina and Western rivers. I
here met two men who were looking for opals in the mountains east of the
Diamantina river. Not far north of Elderslie lies a very rich
copper-bearing district called Cloncurry, which is said to surpass even
the celebrated Lake Superior mines in North America. Moreover, gold and
actual mountains of pure iron ore abound here, but on account of the
difficulty of transportation this enormous wealth is not yet available.
Queensland will, it is said, become a centre for the production of
precious metals. Besides great wealth of gold, silver, tin, and other
metals, the land, according to recent investigations, has so vast an
amount of coal that its coast is destined in time to become the most
important emporium of coal on the southern hemisphere.
The natives near Diamantina river astonished me by their bodily
structure; neither before nor since have I seen them so tall and upon
the whole so well nourished as in the tribe near Elderslie. Some of the
women were even monstrously large; their hair was generally straight.
Their food consisted chiefly of fish, snakes, rats, and clams.
A conspicuous trait in the character of the Australian native is
treachery, and the colonists are wont to give the stranger the warning,
“Never have a black-fellow behind you.” Nor should one, as a rule, rely
on them. How difficult it is for them to lay aside their uncivilised
habits may be seen from the following incident, which happened at Dawson
river. A squatter was walking in the bush in company with his black boy,
hunting brush-turkey (_Talegalla_). As they sauntered forth, the black
boy touched him on the shoulder from behind and said, “Let me go ahead.”
When the squatter asked why he wished to go before him, the boy
answered, “I feel such an inclination to kill you.” The black boy had
been on the station for several years, where he had served as shepherd
and had proved himself very capable.
I observed an interesting fact among the natives of this locality. In
cases of murder they administer justice in a peculiar manner, as the
following instance will illustrate. A black boy at Connemara station was
sent on an errand to Diamantina gates. On his way home he fell in with
an old man and his two wives, all of whom belonged to the same tribe as
the boy. In the course of the journey the boy killed the old man and
took possession of the two young wives. Meanwhile, one of them escaped
and reported what had happened to the tribe, which caused universal
indignation. Fourteen men with spears and other weapons then proceeded
to Connemara to punish the murderer. The boy concealed himself, and the
white people on the station would not surrender him, for he was a good
servant. They even fired one or two shots at the blacks in order to
frighten them away. Three or four days passed, and the boy believed that
all danger was over. As he went out one morning to take in a horse, he
was killed by his tribal kinsmen only half a mile from the station.
From Peak Downs I have heard similar stories. A black man who was to be
punished, probably for murder, was pursued to the very station. When the
white folk got sight of him he was so covered with spears that he looked
like a porcupine.
In the new main building at Elderslie station the fleas had already made
their appearance. They usually live in the ground, and as soon as you
step on the soil they creep by the dozen up your legs. In Europe I have
never felt a bite of these insects, but the Australian representatives
were genuine blood-suckers. As I could not abstain from scratching, I
broke my skin, and thus produced a series of bad and irritable sores
which would not heal. At last I felt so uncomfortable when I moved, that
to my great annoyance I was obliged to keep still for a week. When the
week was over, this sitting still became unbearable. Besides, I had
received an invitation to take part in an expedition down the Diamantina
river.
[Illustration:
QUEENSLAND NATIVE MOUNTED POLICE.
]
An inspector of the native police, whose barracks were down by the
river, was going to make a tour of inspection southward, and I was to go
with him. In spite of my wounds I started for the barracks, which were
situated about thirty miles south; but when I got there I was so ill
that I was obliged to give up my intention of joining the expedition. As
soon as I stirred, and especially when I rode, swellings arose on
various parts of my body, which, however, disappeared whenever I lay
down. There was accordingly nothing else to do but to remain idle, lying
on the verandah of the policemen’s bark hut. The native police, in whose
quarters I now was, is a body organised by the Government of Queensland
for the protection of the settlers. They are stationed in those parts of
the colony where the natives appear to be dangerous. Such a corps of
police consists of natives from other parts of Australia, and
consequently they are the natural enemies of the blacks against whom
they are employed. They are commanded by a white officer, the so-called
sub-inspector, and by a sergeant. The force is in uniform, armed with
rifles, and consists of splendid horsemen. From the barracks, which are
generally some low bark huts, the police several times a year make tours
of inspection through the large districts under their charge. When the
natives kill a white man, the police punish them, and if they prey upon
the cattle of the squatter, the latter sends word to the police barracks
and demands that the blacks be “dispersed.” As Queensland becomes
colonised, the native police force is being gradually reduced in
numbers, and at the present time there are but few barracks in the
northern and western part of the colony.
During my sojourn here I had the good luck to obtain a valuable flint
knife (p. 48) which the natives of Georgina river use for the peculiar
mika-operation[2] to prevent the increase of population. It has a very
sharp point and three sides, two of which are very sharp, so that the
blade is in fact two-edged. The handle is made of a lump of resin
(probably from a eucalyptus), and is in reality black, but is painted
with reddish-brown ochre. The knife is stuck into this handle, the resin
having been softened over the fire. On the other end of the handle a
flat piece of wood is fastened, painted with chalk figures. To the knife
belongs a sheath of the bark of the tea-tree. The pieces of bark are
placed side by side and bound together by a kind of string, which is
probably spun from the hair of the opossum.
Footnote 2:
This remarkable custom, by which the natives produce hypospadi
artificially, belongs especially to the tribes west of the Diamantina
river, and west and north of the Gulf of Carpentaria, and does not, as
might be supposed, originate in lack of means of sustenance, since the
districts in question are full of rats, fish, and such vegetables as
nardu, pigweed, and the like. In a few tribes the children are
operated on, only about five per cent being spared. In other tribes it
is the husband who, after becoming the father of one or two children,
must submit to the requirements of the law, as it is said, amid
certain festivities (as for example trees are cut down and stuck into
the ground in a circle around the place of operation). A man about
twenty years old from Georgina river, whom I examined, explained to me
that the reason for the operation was, that the blacks “did not like
to hear children cry in the camp,” and that they do not care to have
many children. This person had not been operated on himself, as he had
not yet been the father of a child. According to the information I
gathered, the cut, which is about an inch long, extends almost to the
scrotum. The surface of the wound is first burnt with hot stones,
whereupon the wound is kept apart by little sticks which are inserted,
and in this manner an opening is formed, through which the sperma is
emitted. The natives of these tribes are fat and in good physical
condition. Mr. White, a squatter from Rocklands in North-western
Queensland, and an excellent observer of the blacks, noticed for the
first time in 1876 near Boulya that some of them had been injured in
some way, and found that they had been operated on in the manner
described. Later he saw a number of cases, and they all explained to
him that the reason was that they did not care to be burdened with too
many children. (See in regard to this custom also two articles by
Baron N. von Miklucho-Maclay in _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_. Berlin,
1880 and 1882.)
[Illustration:
FLINT KNIFE FROM GEORGINA RIVER WITH ITS SHEATH (½ size).
]
The outer side of the sheath is whitened with chalk, and at the small
end of it is a tuft of red cockatoo down. The natives procure the knife
by making a fire on the flint rock and then pouring water on it. Thus it
splits, and very nice pieces can easily be selected. This flint knife is
the finest Australian implement I have seen. One would hardly think that
it was made by an Australian native, so much labour has been bestowed
upon it.
[Illustration:
POUCH FOR THE CARRYING OF PITURI (¼ size).
]
I obtained the little pouch represented below on the same occasion. It
is a torpedo-shaped network made of plant fibre, and is used exclusively
for carrying the leaves of a tree called pituri (_Duboisia hopwoodii_).
The leaves contain a stimulant which possesses qualities similar to
those of tobacco and opium, and are chewed by several tribes in the
interior of Australia. Pituri is highly valued as a stimulant, and is
taken for barter far and wide; the habitat of the tree is, however,
probably not so limited as has been supposed. The pituri pouch obtained
by me was secured from natives about 200 miles west of Diamantina river,
and was knitted with great skill in about two hours.
When the native police are at home at their barracks they have not much
to do. The troopers are fond of roaming about in the woods, and they
devote themselves to the athletics peculiar to their race, usually
undressing themselves so as to be more free in their movements. In cool
evenings they often amuse themselves with throwing the boomerang, and
their matchless skill invariably commanded my admiration. It is strange
that so primitive a people as the Australian natives should have
invented this weapon, which, as we know, has the peculiarity of
returning to the thrower, provided it does not meet with any obstacle on
the way. The boomerang is a curved, somewhat flat and slender weapon
made from a hard and heavy wood, Brigalow (_Acacia excelsa_) or myall
(_A. pendula_), but the best one I found was made of a lighter kind of
wood. The curving of the boomerang, which often approaches a right
angle, must be natural and lie in the wood itself. One side is perfectly
flat and the other slightly rounded. The ends are pointed. The
peculiarity of the boomerang, viz. that it returns of itself to the
thrower, depends on the fact that it is twisted so that the ends are
bent in opposite directions; the twisting is accomplished by putting it
in water, then heating it in ashes, and finally bending it, but this
warp must occasionally be renewed, for it sometimes disappears,
especially if the weapon is made of light wood. Upon the whole, there is
no striking irregularity in the plan of the boomerang; this warped
boomerang is, as a rule, used only as a toy.
In Western Queensland, as elsewhere in Australia, numerous boomerangs
which are not twisted are used, but these, which are only for war and
hunting, do not return when thrown. They are thrown with killing effect
into flocks of pigeons and ducks.
When an Australian is throwing a boomerang, he seizes one end, which is
usually made rough in order to afford a better grip, and holds it
backward in such a manner that the concave side of the weapon turns
forward. Grasping it firmly, he runs a couple of paces forward, and then
throws his boomerang in a straight line before him. The moment it leaves
his hand it turns into a horizontal position, and starts off, buzzing
like a spinning-wheel. While going with great speed, it revolves round
its own axis, and in this manner takes a slanting direction upward
through the air. It does not return the same way as it went, but curves
toward the left, and thus describes an ellipse. Gradually it loses its
momentum and so falls slowly, sometimes only a couple of paces from its
starting-point.
Dexterity rather than strength is needed to throw the boomerang with
success. Above all, it is important to hold it firmly until it is
suddenly let loose. It cannot fail to astonish everybody to see how far
and at the same time how gracefully this weapon can whirl through the
air. I was never tired of witnessing this amusement, which is so highly
prized by the blacks, and also learned to throw the boomerang myself,
but did not acquire the skill of the natives. It is very difficult to
throw this weapon well, and it requires considerable practice. All the
blacks are by no means perfect in its use, and very few white people
acquire the art.
The natives frequently make the boomerang touch the ground ten or twelve
paces from where it is thrown; but this, far from diminishing the speed,
gives it on the contrary increased velocity. It may even touch the
ground a second time, and then whirl off in the above-described circle
from the right to the left. It is impossible to aim accurately with the
returning boomerang: with the plain one, which does not return, it is
much easier to do so, and the mark is not missed. A man is rarely killed
by a boomerang. An acquaintance of mine told me that he once in a
skirmish was hit in the thigh; the wound was only about an inch and a
half deep, and was soon cured. His horse was hit in several places,
without receiving any harm worth mentioning.
[Illustration:
BOOMERANGS FROM QUEENSLAND (⅐ size).
_a_, _b_, _c_, plain ones from Central Queensland (Coomooboolaroo).
_d_, a returning one from Herbert river.[3]
]
Footnote 3:
On the Herbert river I never saw boomerangs ornamented with engraved
lines like those farther south and west in Queensland.
It has been asserted that the Egyptians and Assyrians used the
boomerang, and from this the conclusion has been drawn that the
Australian natives are descended from a race that have had a higher
degree of development than they now possess. But, according to Mr. B.
Smyth, it is extremely doubtful whether the Dravidic or Egyptian
boomerang is identical with the Australian, since the former could not
have had the quality of returning. Moreover, we find in Australia
intermediate forms of this remarkable weapon, which show a development
towards, rather than a retrogression from, the present boomerang.
It is a remarkable fact, which is asserted by several persons, that the
boomerang is also used in South-eastern India; detailed accounts are,
however, lacking. This weapon reminds us of the myth about Thor’s
hammer, Mjolner, which also returned to the hands of the thrower.
To explain the origin of the boomerang, which is found as far north as
Herbert river, would be difficult. But we can conceive it to have been
invented by accident. A twig or a piece of wood which was on the ground
may have become warped by rain and sunshine, and thereby assumed a form
which revealed the striking quality of returning when it was thrown. In
the forests the natives generally lay hold of any piece of wood for the
purpose of killing a small animal. It is more probable, however, that
the idea was discovered in their games. The native Australian seems to
amuse himself with everything that comes in his way. Thus I have
frequently seen them fold the leaf of a common palm into a square, give
the two corners a little twist, one to each side, and throw it into the
air, making it skim round and return. A white man told me that his black
boys, while round the camp fire, used frequently to amuse themselves
with the leaves of the Brigalow-acacia, which have a striking
resemblance to the boomerang. They gave them a flick with the finger,
causing the leaves to start off, but to return in the same manner as the
boomerang. This seems to me to be the most reasonable explanation of the
matter. The blacks may also have received a suggestion from the whirling
movements described by the winged fruit of the gum-trees as it falls to
the ground.